It takes a village.

I grew up in Hawaii. There would be those who would argue that I haven't grown up yet.

I think it's more than age or time that counts for "growing up" and "maturity".
We'll get back to that later on.

Let's talk about being an ousider.

In Hawaii, there is a very large population of immigrants from Asia, the Philippines, Samoa, Tonga, and... you get the picture. And, if you know anything about the culture of those places, you'll know that people are extremely welcoming. You know the song "Southern Voice" by Tim McGraw? There's a line in there: "Howdy y'all//Did ya eat?//Come on in//I'm sure glad to know ya". Many of the women I was priviledged enough to meet and get to know were that way. Many ladies who didn't know me from Adam would say "Oh, honey, come eat".
Even strangers: I was stuck at a bus stop and I started talking to a woman who stayed in Chinatown during the week and went back to Kailua on the weekends called me "baby". People are friendly, and it rubs off on you. You're allowed to hug strangers, and you're allowed to call someone you just met "honey".

Not so back on the mainland, I've found.
I'm white. I don't get the distinction of being 'Irish-American' or 'Anglo-American', or even 'European-American'. Nope, according to all the census forms, standardised tests, and financial aid applications I've filled out, I am white.

I was working at this restaurant in Guam before my family moved back to "the States" (as we called the US in Guam) and I was bussing tables. I loved the job, I loved the place, I loved the people. No problem. So I asked a gentleman how he was doing as I took his finished plates. He said he was doing well, and looked a little perplexed. He asked me if I was the owner's daughter. I said, "Oh, no... she's not around..." and then he asked me the question I had learnt to dread:
"Oh, are you a military dependent?"
There it was.
Yes. I am. My father has served this beautiful country for almost thirty years.
I told the man "Oh, yes, my dad's in the Navy. Er... How could you tell?"
Here it comes...
"Because you're white."
I looked down at my hands sticking out from the long sleeves of my black workshirt, looked at my coworkers in their tanktops, looked back at my hands and said "Really? I couldn't tell. Thank you!". Of course, I said it all in a very joking manner, and we all laughed because it was a pretty lighthearted moment.

However, it does speak back to generalisations and being the obvious outsider and that being really scary. If you go to a new place and you're the obvious "new girl" (a title I finished high school with, along with another girl, having moved the middle of Senior year), it can put your back up. It can make you wonder why you're unhappy.

Thankfully, I made some of the best friends ever the first few weeks I was there, and am proud to call them my fristers.

"It takes a village to raise a kid" is what "they" say. Yeah, it does, and it takes not knowing the steps to appreciate the dance.

That said: good gracious, this is all new.